This German I mean Prussian
by sohren94
Summary: Roderich just wants to compose music and play his piano. But Gilbert wants to do other things...PruAus. Yaoi. Don't like, don't read, you know the drill.
1. Chapter 1

_This is actually my third attempt at writing a fanfic, but this will be the first one I publish. It's Roderich and Gilbert. This is rated M on account of Gilbert's filthy mouth and smut in the next chapter…_

_I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. Obviously._

_Enjoy, and reviews would be greatly appreciated. That way I can tell if I should finish the story or stop writing altogether._

Roderich sat at his piano, attempting to revise the musical piece he had just written. He stared at the notes until they started to blend with the lines they sat on. It started to get dark, and Roderich knew that even though this work was going to be a success, as it always was, it still needed something. He just couldn't put his finger on it and tried to think. Irritatingly, pointless, non-music related things started to cross his mind, and he knew that today the inspiration wouldn't come.

He sighed as he reluctantly put his things away. It wasn't really a problem that Roderich hadn't progressed on his composition for a few days, since being the prudish workaholic he was, he was months ahead of schedule anyway. He just was unhappy that he wouldn't finish writing his piece with the initial inspiration fresh in his mind. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, an effort to keep an imposing headache at bay.

_Maybe I should go to sleep,_ he thought, as he watched his pen fall from the music stand and land on an ivory piano key. The sound of an E played quietly, as if it wasn't sure it was supposed to be making any noise at all. Roderich looked at it, then brought up his right pinky finger to play it again. Then he played the ebony key right below it, an E flat. He repeated the pattern again, and went on to play the first few notes of Beethoven's _Fur Elise_. He added his left hand and lost himself in the clear, lilting melody, accompanied by the strong, smooth bottom notes. He was so into it, in fact, that he didn't notice someone stride into the room until they sat next to him and pressed a random key in the midst of Roderich's playing.

The discordant sound that wafted up from Roderich's piano dragged him from his trance in the same obnoxious way his alarm clock dragged him from sleep every morning.

Roderich went rigid. "Haven't you learned to knock?" He demanded this of the white-haired, red-eyed man sitting next to him on the piano bench.

"I did," he took a swig of the beer that was in his hand, "but you didn't say anything so I just walked in."

Roderich looked at the man's beer in disgust. He had told him a thousand times not to eat or drink in this room. A _thousand_. "Gilbert…" he warned.

"What? Want some?" Gilbert shook the bottle in Roderich's direction, sending a drop of beer down to land on the other man's lap. "Oops."

Roderich turned red, losing it. "Dammit, Gilbert, how many times have I told you not to drink in here?"

"Pretty sure it's close to a thousand by now," he mused, taking another swig. Roderich got even redder, and pressed his fingers to his temples.

"Why can't you follow a few simple rules? Is it really that difficult for you?" Roderich was close to exploding. He could feel all of his blood rushing to his head, indicating that soon he'd either wail on Gilbert, or faint. The latter was more likely to happen, and that was the last thing Roderich needed to happen.

"Calm your tits," Gilbert said, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I'm making a mess. And rules are meant to be broken. Now what are you up to, anyway?"

Roderich took a deep breath, knowing that this anger couldn't be good for his blood pressure. "Well," he shut his eyes, "I _was_ writing and playing music until a certain someone dropped in, ruining my mood."

"So you weren't doing anything important, then?" Gilbert asked, blinking. Roderich couldn't believe the amount of ignorance this one man possessed.

"Of _course_ it was important! Writing music is my _job_! How else do you think those disgusting beers get into the fridge?" He got into Gilbert's face and pointed a finger toward his nose. "You have no idea how hard this is, Mister I'm-awesome-so-I-do-whatever-the-fuck-I-want!"

Gilbert moved in and playfully nipped Roderich's finger. "Come on, Roddy. You and I both know you're probably two months ahead on that crap. Relax." He grinned and licked the finger as he said this. "Hmm? How about it?"

Roderich snatched his hand away. _Is he seriously trying to get in my pants right now?_ "F-fuck you."

"Please?" Gilbert sang. _Wrong choice of words,_ the Austrian thought. He knew now that Gilbert was playing with him, and he was winning. Gilbert smirked and licked his lips, crimson eyes glowing.

Roderich blushed. "You know full well what I meant, German." At this Gilbert frowned and stood up, taller than Roderich. "I remember telling you that I'm Prussian. Don't you remember, Roddy?"

Roderich unconsciously backed up a step, but then rolled his eyes. "What's the difference? You know that's not the issue here."

Gilbert's eyes flashed. "What is the 'issue' here, then?"

"Well…"

"See? You don't even know why you're mad. You're PMS-ing like a damn woman. And you know what every PMS-ing woman needs?"

Silence. Roderich was not going to play these games with Gilbert today. He was in a bad mood. He glared at the other man.

"A good—"

"Gilbert…"

"—Long—"

"I am not doing this today."

"Fuck." He dragged out the word, crossing his arms and nodding his head as if he'd reached a simple conclusion.

"Gilbert, I don't want to do this right now. Don't you get it?" He sighed and shook his head. Couldn't Gilbert tell he wasn't in the mood for his antics?

"No. You said that yesterday, and the day before, and last week, and every week before that. It's been a _month_, Roderich. I'm dying here. Why won't you just let me fuck you?"

"Think about what you just said, Gilbert."

"The hell you mean by that?"

"I mean it's all about you. Whenever I do let you…uh…" Roderich struggled for a word.

"Fuck you," Gilbert offered.

The Austrian winced. "Uh…right. Anyway, whenever I let that happen, it's all about you."

Gilbert's white eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What are you talking about? Whenever we fuck, you seem to enjoy it just fine."

Roderich sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Can you please refrain from using that word So casually?"

"Psh, you know you like it." Gilbert licked his lips again and took a step closer to the musician. The shorter man could smell the beer on the other's breath.

"Are you drunk?" Roderich tried. Maybe that's why Gilbert was being so rude. But Roderich quickly concluded that that wasn't the case.

A snort. "I don't get drunk," he said the word like it was some kind of disgusting disease, "Plus, this is only my first one. I just walked in the door."

Roderich just stared at Gilbert, trying to figure out just what he saw in the uncouth, crude, pretentious brute. It certainly wasn't his arrogance. The man's ego was so large that other men would become visibly depressed whenever Gilbert walked into a room. It wasn't his build, although his body was perfect: tall, muscular, and covered in skin that was a strange but perfect shade of white. But those eyes. Those dense, crimson eyes that ever so slightly changed their hue to match their owner's emotion. Bright and clear when he was happy, fierce and glowing when he was angry, and dark and cloudy whenever he was aroused.

_The eyes are the window to the soul_. Roderich felt that Gilbert perfectly represented this saying. You could tell what Gilbert was feeling just by looking at those eyes. He was honest, had no ulterior motives, or anything of that nature. Everything about him was there for everyone to see, and that's what Roderich loved about him the most.

"Uh, hello? Anybody in there?" Gilbert tapped on Roderich's forehead. Roderich blushed and swatted the Prussian's hand away.

"Yes, and if you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. See you." He turned on his heels and walked out of the room leaving Gilbert standing there looking confused.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank so much for the reviews! I was so excited about them that I went ahead and wrote the next chapter the day after uploading the first one! You guys are awesome~_

_Okay…So I was planning on finishing this in two chapters, but I decided to drag it out a bit. Sorry. And I guess I lied about the smut. It will be in the next chapter, I promise! _

_I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. Obviously. Even though I wish with all my being that Gil and Luddy were mine._

Ludwig had just gotten Feliciano to sit down and watch TV after a long day of interrupting the German's work. He was in his neat office at his orderly desk, revising some already flawless documents he had written the day before. As his nerves started to calm and he became relaxed, the new black phone on his desk rang, startling him out of his concentration.

He picked up the phone. "Ja, hallo?"

"WEST!"

The German held the phone away from his ear and winced in pain. "Gilbert, I'm not deaf, but I soon will be if you keep yelling like that."

"Oops. Sorry." Gilbert's voice softened, but not by much. Ludwig swore that Gilbert had some kind of hearing impairment after always listening to that heavy metal crap.

"What is it? I'm working." Ludwig exhaled and toyed with his pen, clicking it furiously. He'd developed this habit shortly after Gilbert moved out and started "talking" to him on the phone. His nerves were a wreck.

"Roddy won't let me fuck him!" Gilbert's voice was shrill over the phone, and Ludwig knew his brother was distressed, but he wasn't about to comfort the dummkopf. He also ignored the curse. Gilbert was so childish sometimes. Well, maybe all the time, but that wasn't really the issue at the moment.

"Gilbert, think about what you just said."

"Ah, sheisse! Not you, too!"

"What do you mean?" Now Ludwig was confused. His brother never cared to explain things. What a stressful way to live life. How Ludwig survived being raised by this ignoramus, he'd never know.

"Roddy said the same exact thing eleven minutes ago. Are you guys like, connected or something? Anyway, I hit on him, but he keeps turning me down and I don't know why. He usually seems to like it just fine!"

Ludwig took a second to understand and gather his thoughts. "Gilbert, I don't think that's the problem. You have to think about what he would want."

"He has to want to let me fuck him! Who the hell wouldn't want that? I'm fuckin' awesome."

"I wouldn't."

Gilbert ignored Ludwig's comment. "Ludwig, bruderlien, tell me what to do! My wife doesn't love me anymore, I think I might die! And if I die, Roddy'll kick me out and I'll have to move back in with you and Feli. And Feli is basically a nudist. I can't live like that! He's fuckin' sexy! No offense."

"None taken. But you have to calm down. And don't call him your wife." Now Ludwig was concerned. Gilbert may get annoying and whine at times, but he never acts this way, what with being "awesome" and all. He must have been genuinely upset. "How long has this been going on?"

"It's been a whole month, West. What could be wrong?" He suddenly gasped. "What if he's sick with the plague? What if he has that shit? I'm _awesome_; awesome people's wives don't catch the plague. What am I gonna do?"

Ludwig didn't like hearing the man who helped raise him, one with the confidence of a few thousand men, acting like this. It was pathetic. "Ost! Halts maul!" Silence. "Get a hold of yourself."

"But—"

"No buts. Roderich is probably just stressed out." Of all people, Ludwig would know about stress. Ludwig was surprised he hadn't had a heart attack yet after being forced to work with a bunch of dummkopfs who play at work, and then going home to a loud, ditzy Italian whose biggest comfort was that damn pasta. And singing. Oh Gott, the damn _singing_. Ludwig had to admit that it was cute at times, but it was a nightmare when he was trying to get work done. Wait, was that Feli singing now?

"What's that noise?" Wow, if Gilbert could hear it, then…nein, it wasn't a problem. Yet.

"It's just Feli watching one of his shows," _I hope._ "Anyway, you need to do something Roderich likes, understand? Do that instead of trying to bed him all the time."

Gilbert was silent, which meant he was thinking. Hopefully he'd take Ludwig's advice and let Roderich rest for a while. Even though Gilbert mostly raised Ludwig on his own, Ludwig was definitely the more mature of the two. Gilbert would do well to listen to him this time.

The sound of singing drifted down the hallway and through Ludwig's door. Ludwig's brain complained at the headache it knew would come in a few looked up in time to see the door burst open, a singing Italian in its wake. Feli had a large covered dish in his hand.

"Luddy! I know you told me to watch TV, but it was the food channel and it was pasta and I know you've been working and must be tired and hungry so I brought you some fresh pasta, ve~" He waltzed over to Ludwig's desk, and before the German could stop him, he tripped over a briefcase and the dish flew out of his hand. And landed on the desk. Right where Ludwig's phone was. Pasta everywhere.

"Oops."

"FELICIANO! I _JUST_ BOUGHT THIS PHONE!"

That was the last thing Gilbert heard before the line went dead.

xXx

Gilbert sat on the balcony, petting his little chick and contemplating what his younger brother had said. Roderich did seem kind of on edge lately, but that was something Gilbert always ignored. He didn't understand how the hell someone could get stressed out writing _music_, for Pete's sake. He just figured that since Roddy wasn't as awesome as _he_ was, then it made sense that the Austrian would be overwhelmed after doing such a pansyish thing.

"You love me, don't you, Gilbird?" He cooed at his pet through pouty lips. The chick responded with a few "piyo"s and hopped around on Gilbert's palm. The Prussian looked up at the moon, which was full and high in the sky, and tried to figure out what types of things Roderich liked.

Well, it's obvious that he likes music, but he only ever listens to that sissy classical shit. Gilbert was more of a rocker himself, a true head banger, but he was sure he could find something awesomely classical that would give Roddy an insane eargasm. He needed to download that shit though, and he didn't know shit about computers, but he bet that Kiku could do it, that techy-ass motherfucker. And Roderich was always cleaning the house, just like Ludwig. Maybe he could try that with someone's help. He couldn't ask Ludwig, since he'd already given him advice, but his friend Antonio was the shit at cleaning, the sissy bastard. Ooh, and his cheesy-ass buddy Francis could show him how to bake Roddy a cake! Even though he was a fucking party-pooper from hell, Roddy loved himself some cake.

Yes, if Gilbert could get all these things to come together, then surely his sexy Austrian would go back to normal.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Finally! Here's what you guys have been waiting for! **_

_**Gomen for the REALLY late upload. I've been busy with school and couldn't get to writing, but after this I hope you'll all forgive me~**_

_**Enjoy!**_

"Wait wait wait, how do you do that again?" Gilbert's eyes flashed as he studied the computer screen while Kiku downloaded songs off the Internet. How was that even possible? He couldn't wrap his mind around the technological phenomena as Kiku casually clicked on the next song on Gilbert's list.

"It's simple, really, Gilbert-san." Kiku looked up at him and smiled, secretly flattered that the "awesome" Gilbert had gone out of his way to ask him for help. "You just right-click on the song, and paste the URL into an online converter. Then you download it from that and you have your music."

"Hmm. That easy, huh?" Gilbert thought about the process and realized it had too many steps. His awesome brain didn't have time for instructions, so he'd probably forget what Kiku told him in about five minutes anyway. "Well you're a smart little fucker, aren't you? You do this all the time?"

Kiku was a little taken aback at Gilbert's harsh language, but he realized that he had given him a compliment. He looked at the keyboard. "Uh, yes. I burn a lot of CDs for Yao-niisan."

"Oh, that Chinese guy? How are you two even brothers, anyway? Aren't you Japanese?" Gilbert was pretty sure that even though both were Asian countries, Japan and China were very different from each other. Maybe they're not related?

"Oh, our father was married to a Chinese woman, who was Yao-niisan's mother, but then she passed away. Father then married my mother, who is Japanese, and they had me. We're half-brothers, I suppose." He hadn't ever really called Yao his half-brother, since Yao loved him as much and treated him as he would have a full-blooded one. He didn't really care about nuances like those, anyway. "But I need to get going." He had an anime convention to go to, and he didn't want to be late and miss anything.

"Oh, I see. Well, thanks for that, little techy dude. You kinda just helped make my life." He slapped the smaller male on the back. "See ya later, dude. Tell your brother I said what's up."

"Sure," Kiku said, wincing at the sudden blow. "Goodbye, Gilbert-san." He gathered his things and left, with Gilbert watching after him. "Why the fuck is he so polite? I wish Roddy was more like that. He always hits me when I'm rude." He chuckled to himself and called Antonio.

"_Bueno," _a pleasant tenor sang through the phone. "_Como estas, Gilberto?_"

"Toni! I need your help. Come clean my house." Gilbert didn't bother greeting his best friend. Antonio was so kind and forgiving that he would help him out even if Gilbert told him he was going to rob a bank. It made sense, though. He had to be a saint to live with that pissy little shit Lovino without wanting to strangle him.

"_Que?_ Didn't Ludwig just clean up yesterday?" How his Prussian buddy could have messed up his house that quickly was beyond Antonio. "Why do you need it cleaned?"

"Uh…he did, but I kinda had some friends over and we kinda got a little drunk and now the house kinda looks like shit." Roderich had left for a symphony in Vienna the morning before, and Gilbert decided to vent his frustration and boredom through beer and loud partying with friends that were nearly as obnoxious as he was. It got a bit out of hand and Gilbert had ended up kicking his friends out when they started messing with Roderich's piano. There was no way in hell that he was going to have to answer to Roddy for ruining his precious instrument. "But anyway, Roddy comes home tomorrow and I need some help. You know I'm not one to ask for help, so this is important."

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm honored you would ask me to help you out. What time should I come over?"

"Now, if you're not busy, I guess." It didn't really matter what time since Antonio was ridiculously fast with cleaning. "Actually, as long as you come over before tomorrow it'll be fine."

"Okay, then, I'll be over tonight. _Adios, mi—" _Antonio's farewell was interrupted by a loud _FUCK!_ that sounded to Gilbert like an angry Lovino. "Uh, _hasta luego, hombre. _Gotta go. I'm coming, Lovino, _cálmate…_" The line went dead.

Gilbert looked at the phone, shrugged, and dialed up Francis. His plan didn't have a particular order, so he figured it was okay to call him now.

"_Bonjour, Mon frère~_" Francis' cheesy, melodic voice greeted Gilbert. "What can I do you for?"

Gilbert ignored the proposition and briefly told him about his problem and his plan to fix it. "…So can you help me out with a cake? Roddy loves cake almost as much as he loves me, which is a shit ton, and I bet you could show me how to make a cake that'll bring him back to his senses."

"Of course I can, _mi amour, _who do you think I am? I might even have some tips for after the cake, if you know what I mean." Gilbert could hear the suggestive smile Francis was definitely wearing. He didn't need tips on how to get into Roddy's pants. Jeez.

"Just come on, I don't need you acting all sleazy while I'm trying to romance my wife. And make sure you've got a cake that's as awesome as I am."

"You owe me one, then." Francis wasn't going to make this easy for Gilbert. He loved to have a leash on Gilbert, and Gilbert knew it.

"Fine," Gilbert said, giving in. "Don't be late."

"Only fashionably, Gilbert."

And he was. Francis and Antonio ended up showing up at the same time, which was probably not good since the three of them were more into messing around than actually getting anything done. But Gilbert was serious. He needed to get his Roddy back, and he wasn't having any of his buddies' antics tonight.

Antonio had a fourth of a bag of Gilbert's potato chips in his mouth, and Francis was going through the fridge complaining about the lack of wine when Gilbert slammed his fist on the counter. They both jumped, and Antonio nearly choked on the chips he was devouring.

"All right. Today there shall be no fuckery. We are getting down to business _right now_." Gilbert's eyes flashed, meaning that he wasn't joking.

Antonio gave him a disbelieving look. "Hey, _hombre_, how can you be so rude after I took the trouble of leaving my precious Lovi at home to come and help you?"

"Shut it, Toni. Your little Lovino isn't neglecting you." He saw Francis start to say something. He pointed at him. "And _you_ probably got it in five minutes before coming over here, so I'm not listening to any of your _romantique _shit."

"I am offended," Francis said with a theatrical gesture of his hand over his heart and a pained look on his face. Gilbert rolled his eyes. Sometimes Francis was unnecessarily dramatic, and it was kind of irritating.

"It's okay, Francis, he's just frustrated, that's all. Isn't that right, _Gilberto_?" Antonio shot Gilbert a knowing look, and in turn Gilbert covered his face. He shuddered, finally breaking.

"It's been _months_, you guys. Do you get how painful this is? I haven't jerked off this much since I was fourteen. This isn't me! Awesome people don't masturbate. It's so lame."

Antonio blinked. "Did you say _months_?"

"_Mon __dieu_." Francis looked sincerely concerned.

Cringing, Gilbert took a swig of the beer that was on the counter. "So you understand." He couldn't take it anymore. The dumbest things mad him horny now. He couldn't even watch TV anymore since every other commercial mad him strangely aroused. He didn't know what he would do if Roderich rejected him again. Actually he would probably die.

"_Si, amigo_, completely. I will help you out." He walked over and patted a dejected Gilbert on the back. Francis swung an arm around Gilbert's shoulder. "I will help as well."

"Good," Gilbert said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's do this bitch."

* * *

Roderich stared through backseat taxi window at the scenery. It was the German countryside, all hills, trees, streams, and distant mountains. Since it was nighttime, instead of greens and yellows and pinks and grays, everything was tinted a deep shade of indigo. The beauty of it was fascinating. He sighed and closed his eyes.

In about twenty minutes, he'd be home, free of the stress of concerts for the time being. Waiting for him was the quietness he loved almost as much as the sound of his piano, a delicious pastry or two to eat, and…a problem he himself had created.

Roderich hadn't meant to neglect him, he was just so tired and stressed and overwhelmed that he hadn't the time for entertaining his lover. And he could tell he was hurting Gilbert. Normally Gilbert would pester Roderich until he gave in, and he had tried, but after a few weeks he had given up. How long had it been since they'd last embraced each other? It hadn't been since he'd started preparing for his symphony, and that was two months ago.

"Shit…" Roderich mumbled. He hadn't even noticed it had been that long. The taxi driver looked at him through the rearview mirror.

"What's eatin' you, kid?"

_How rude_, Roderich thought. He was clearly not a "kid". He didn't say it, though. "…Nothing. I'm just tired, really." Which was true. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep for the past three weeks.

The driver just grunted and went back to driving, and Roderich closed his eyes for the remainder of the ride.

* * *

Finally home, Roderich reached into his pocket for his keys. The house was quiet, and there were no lights on. Gilbert was probably out drinking with his friends, which meant he wouldn't be home for another four hours. It was midnight. Roderich could go shower and go straight to sleep after finding some cake or something to eat. He opened the door and walked in.

The house smelled…good. Kind of like lavender and maybe…chocolate? It was warm, too. Roderich turned on the hallway light and walked to the kitchen. He turned on the light there, too, and saw something on the island in the middle of the kitchen. It was a cake, with whipped cream frosting and purple cursive letters that said: Welcome Home, Roddy~

He blinked, surprised, and swiped a bit of the frosting off the side of the cake and licked his finger. "Oh…" It melted in his mouth and his face heated up. "Wow." It was delicious. Roderich looked around, got a plate, took a knife, and cut himself off a small slice.

"Aw, go ahead and take a bigger piece," a voice said.

Roderich spun around to see a silhouette in the doorway. A confident, muscular one.

"G-Gilbert!" He said, breathless. Gilbert was surprisingly quiet. "I didn't know you were home."

"Of course you didn't. I am the physical representation of stealth, you know." He strode over toward Roderich, who was just now noticing that Gilbert was wearing a red button-up shirt with a silky black tie and a smart pair of black slacks. This was unusual as Gilbert usually ran around in a T-shirt and ripped up jeans.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Roderich was concerned. Not only was Gilbert fully dressed, the house was clean, and there was a delicious cake on the counter. Roderich had been gone for five days. The house should have been a wreck. What was the Prussian up to?

"Because it makes me look even sexier than I already am," Gilbert said with a grin. "Anyway, eat that."

Roderich gave him a suspicious look as he took a piece with his fork and cautiously put it into his mouth.

"Oh, my God," Roderich breathed, "What is this?" It was like heaven had come to him in the creamy, chocolaty, melty form of a pastry.

"I call it 'Almost-as-Good-as-Sex Cake'. You like?" Gilbert wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"Yeah…"Roderich was mesmerized by the flavors in his mouth.

"Well, you enjoy that while I go run you a bath." Gilbert left the kitchen and Roderich dug into his cake.

* * *

Sitting in the tub, Roderich tried to remember the last time he had relaxed like this. Gilbert had even gone so far as to float candles in the water and play music that sounded like modern variations of Beethoven's symphonies. Roderich never would have thought to alter the composer's music in such a way, but he liked the way it sounded. He sank down so that the water was up to his nose and thought about how Gilbert had cleaned the house, baked him a cake that was so good it should have been a crime, and drawn him a luxurious bath that one might have taken at a spa.

And then he felt terrible. True, Gilbert wasn't the most romantic person in the world, but he did go out of his way to make Roderich feel special. And here Roderich had gone and taken it for granted. A person can only handle rejection for so long before they get fed up and leave. When would Gilbert do that?

Suddenly terrified, Roderich got out of the bath, put on his robe, and ran to the bedroom. There Gilbert was, on the bed, watching some special on Prussia and the Teutonic Knights. Gilbert looked up at the scared-looking Roderich and turned the television off, looking concerned.

"Hey, are you o—" Roderich rushed over to Gilbert and kissed him. Gilbert was such a rough and abrasive man, yet his lips were so soft. Pushing Gilbert down on the bed, Roderich continued kissing him, nibbling and licking and sucking his lips until he couldn't breathe. Then he let go and looked into a dazed Gilbert's eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he panted. "I'm such a horrible person. I was so preoccupied with everything else that I just ignored you." A tear fell from one of his violet eyes. "I'm so sorry…"

Gilbert was surprised to see Roderich act this way. "Uh, really, it's okay." He put a hand up to Roderich's cheek. "I understand how busy you were, and it was kinda selfish of me to bother you while you were working." Roderich heaved a sigh of relief. "But," Gilbert declared.

"But what?" Roderich was confused.

Gilbert's crimson eyes flashed. "I'm still going to have to punish you for neglecting me."

* * *

Roderich squirmed as Gilbert tasted his body. His hands were everywhere; on his shoulders, caressing his chest, teasing his nipples, gliding down his spine, and cupping his behind. Roderich couldn't stop Gilbert from stimulating his body, as Gilbert had tied his hands to the bed with his black necktie.

Gilbert looked up at Roderich from between his legs through eyes like rubies and grinned. "Look, you're overflowing," he said as he licked up a bit of the warm liquid that had dripped down the side of Roderich's erection.

Roderich gasped. He felt like he was going to explode. "What are you playing around for," he demanded. "J-just touch me already." He was sweating, and he was so hard it hurt.

Gilbert chuckled, red eyes glowing. "Well, it wouldn't be a punishment if you got what you wanted, would it?" He dragged his tongue up the side of Roderich's throbbing erection again, but let it linger near the slit at the top. He momentarily dipped the tip of his tongue in before kissing it.

That was almost enough to make Roderich come. He bucked his hips, sliding his member through a wet trail across Gilbert's cheek. Roderich groaned, unable to handle the sensation.

"Oh, how naughty, Roddy," Gilbert pouted, wiping the wetness from his cheek with two fingers. "Look what you did to my sexy face." He hung his fingers above Roderich's mouth. "Open your mouth, babe."

Roderich hesitated, but did as he was told. He slurped and sucked at Gilbert's fingers until they were coated with his saliva. Gilbert grinned and said in a voice dripping with lust, "That's a good boy."

Then he pushed his fingers into Roderich, who whimpered. This was the first time in a couple of months that he and Gilbert had done this, and it hurt a bit. Roderich adjusted as the pain dulled and pleasure took its place as Gilbert's fingers reached Roderich's sweet spot. Roderich gasped and then let out a quite lewd moan.

It was all Gilbert could do not to flip Roderich over and fuck him raw after that. His little songbird was so sexy, and he didn't even know it. Gilbert loved the sight of Roderich's violet eyes darkening, his brows knitting together in utter ecstasy as Gilbert worked his fingers around inside him. And it had been so long. Gilbert praised himself for not losing control so far.

"Ahh…Gilbert," Roderich panted. "H-hurry up…" He moved his hips so that Gilbert's fingers rubbed up against his sweet spot and moaned again. "I want you…"

Gilbert groaned, and bit his lip. "Okay, but you're gonna have to come get it." He untied Roderich's wrists from the bed, but kept them bound together. "Come," Gilbert beckoned as he rolled over onto his back.

Roderich looked at his lover, who was the picture of perfection. Gilbert was not beefy, but he was definitely muscular. His strong shoulders and perfectly toned chest glistened with sweat and heaved with each of his lust-driven breaths. As Roderich lowered himself onto Gilbert's waiting member, he watched him shut his eyes and bite down into his reddened lower lip.

Roderich placed his bound hands on Gilbert's abs, and moved himself, up and down. He had to stop for a second as Gilbert seemed to grow inside him and send a wave of pleasure through his body. He tried to catch his breath as Gilbert grabbed his hips and moved him more. He gasped and moaned at the sensation it made.

Gilbert watched as Roderich trembled and moaned, his eyes shut tight as if he was concentrating on something. He threw his head back, and dug his fingernails into Gilbert's abdomen, which made Gilbert even harder.

It wasn't enough. "Ahh, G-Gilbert, I can't…" He couldn't move fast enough, and it was frustrating. "I can't…"

Gilbert took Roderich and flipped him onto his knees and bound hands. Then he thrust into him from behind, squarely hitting Roderich's prostate. Roderich cried out, clenching his fists and biting into the sheets. His usual soft tenor of a voice rose to a desperate alto as he moaned and demanded Gilbert to fuck him more, harder, faster.

Gilbert obliged, bending down to lick Roderich's trembling back. This earned him a drawn out moan that made him thrust even harder. Roderich clawed at the sheets and turned his head, trying to look at Gilbert. "K-kiss me," he panted.

"Hn…Roddy, you're going to kill me." He flipped Roderich again, this time so that he was facing him. He drowned Roderich in a kiss, letting his tongue be nipped in between Roderich's teeth. They went on like that, Gilbert thrusting into a moaning Roderich as he kissed him, until Roderich broke away and breathlessly cried, "G-Gil! I'm going to—"

And then he came. A few months' stress and frustration, his worries over his relationship with Gilbert, and his love for him all burst out of him at once. Gilbert came at the same time, unable to withstand the beauty of his lover. After his body relaxed, he collapsed on top of Roderich, who was still gasping. Gilbert removed the tie, and Roderich wrapped his arms around him, not wanting to let go.

"Don't leave me all high and dry like that again, Roddy," Gilbert mumbled.

Roderich scoffed, but smiled. "Shut up."

* * *

_**Wow. That was pretty intense! **_

_**Thanks for all of your reviews!**_

_**See you guys next time~**_


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